


Informant

by FreddieVonLecter



Category: Hannibal (TV), Saw (Movies)
Genre: Crossover, Crossover Pairings, F/M, M/M, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Revenge
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-01-05
Updated: 2017-01-06
Packaged: 2018-09-15 01:35:27
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,685
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9213464
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FreddieVonLecter/pseuds/FreddieVonLecter
Summary: In season 2, Freddie must have had some type of informant to tell her where Beverly's body was placed. Who told her? Why? This story gives a different spin on a possible informant she made have encountered and then an alternate timeline to complete the series in a different way.(Hannibal x Saw Movies Crossover) Read notes for additional information.





	1. Fox Trap

**Author's Note:**

> Mark and Freddie will become a pairing in this, as well as Hannibal and Will. So it will have Hannigram as much as it will have a crossover pairing. First chapter is relatively tame.

There was something off about the man she had just picked up at the bar. She wasn’t sure what it was though. Even the scar on his face wasn’t sending red flags to her brain. It wasn’t as if that was a rare occurrence. Considering the bars she frequented, it would have been odder had he not had some kind of scar. There was just a familiarity there that she couldn’t quite put her finger on for whatever reason. Like she had seen him somewhere before for some reason. His name wasn’t ringing any bells but if he was hiding then of course it wouldn’t. Why had she seen his face? Where was he from? There had to be a reason she was thinking this.

Freddie Lounds knew her stuff. Especially when it came to criminals and murderers. If this guy was sending off warning signals no matter how unintentional, she wanted to know why because she already knew she had to have seen him somewhere before if that were the case. While he still slept, she got up and headed for the bathroom with her phone. He had a nice place, very nice. It denoted some level of money. He hadn’t exactly said what he did for a living but he’d also been drunk. Drunk to the level that she didn’t think he would tell the truth because he wouldn’t have been able to remember it. That type of drunk. She’d been mostly sober. He wasn’t unattractive, far from it. Just her type. A large, dominant male. It was what she’d been looking for at the time. Something to currently take her mind off of the crimes she was currently following.

She started to search through her own database on Tattlecrime.com to see if she could find something she may have written about him long ago. The problem was, she really had nowhere to start. Since she was sure his name wasn’t going to turn up anything she only had a description and she’d been writing for many years. It wasn’t going to work that simply. To just go through her archives. If she knew him from ten years back she’d be searching in that bathroom for hours and he’d come to know that something was up with her. Ditching the idea that she should use her phone any more, she closed out of the browser and headed back to the bedroom. She got in bed with him again and he pulled her close, almost possessively.

“Easy there, tiger.” She muttered then chuckled softly to herself. He muttered something, not something she understood, but didn’t move or say anything after that point. Who was he? She was going to have to figure this out because she also had a sinking suspicion that her life might currently be in danger by staying there. The problem was, her curiosity was going to keep her there until she got some indication of who this man was and what he’d done in the past.

She was surprised to find that at some point she had dozed off. When, she wasn’t sure. When she got up in the morning, for the second time, she grabbed one of his shirts and pulled it on. He was a really big guy. Either that or she was really small. Possibly a combination of those two things. He was at least six feet tall, maybe a bit over, which pretty much dwarfed her five foot one frame. He could accidentally fall on top of her and kill her. He was muscular too. Possibly it was the case that he was former law enforcement. Maybe something went wrong and he’d used his pension to disappear, start over. A lot of cops had done that and it didn’t necessarily mean they were evil or continued to be evil once they had been allowed to escape.

* * *

She headed into the kitchen and he was standing by the counter looking over his iPad and sipping from a mug of coffee. He looked in her general direction before going back to what he was doing before. She wasn’t sure what to say to him, if she should say anything at all but he wasn’t instantly attempting to throw her out which meant that he either didn’t know who she was by that point or didn’t care. She helped herself to some coffee and then sat down at the table in there. If she’d have known how to cook she would have offered that to him but, that was the last thing on her list of skills. Mostly she lived out of hotel and motel rooms and the rare occasions she was home she didn’t really make more than a sandwich. Usually it was take out or delivery.

“So, what’s on your schedule for today?” She asked when the silence got a bit too awkward for her to handle any more.

“Figuring out why the owner of Tattlecrime.com slept with me last night.” He said. His voice was casual but it denoted that he was someone that she may have had an eye on at some point and he thought that she was suspicious of him. Either that or trying to gather information. Now she most definitely was interested even if she couldn’t figure out who he actually was.

“Because I met you in a bar and that happens to be my occupation.” She replied, “Speaking of which, you never told me what you do, John.”

“Retired.” He said. “Made some money in the stock market and decided to call in an early break.” He headed towards the table, his walk towards her almost menacing but not enough that she could call him on it.

“Well, good for you then.” She said trying not to sound too sarcastic before taking another sip of her drink. John was his name, he said. John Granger. A google search of that had turned up nothing so she was back to square one still. The name was almost familiar though. Like, on the very tip of her tongue familiar and now he was indicating that she of all people would know him for some reason. John Granger. John...Granger. Not a famous name but...so close.

“And you aren’t here looking for anything?” he asked.

“Would I need to be?” She asked, “Are you currently the Chesapeake Ripper? Because if you are I’m going to need to interview you.”

“Not call the police?”

“I suppose not, that is unless you intend to kill and eat me instead of letting me leave. I’m not exactly in the business of getting my biggest story caught when I could instead have his words on my website and not tell anyone where he is. You know, lots of money. As long as he doesn’t kill me I fail to see how any of that is my problem.” She shrugged, “The FBI should be taking care of his murders. Not a tabloid journalist.”

“Fair enough.” he said but kept eyeing her in a way that wasn’t very comfortable. “I am not the Chesapeake Ripper.”

“Didn’t think you were.” She said, “If that were the case I’m positive I’d have been served for breakfast because what we did last night was enough that he wouldn’t want people to know about it. Besides I don’t think you fit the profile. You aren’t a surgeon nor were you one previously.”

“That’s right, but how would you know?”

“Your body says law enforcement more than it says doctor. No offense. I’m not trying to call you stupid or anything because I don’t think you are.” She replied. As much as it may be a bad idea to try to lay out all of her cards on the table, if she wanted some kind of indication of who he was then she was going to have to pretend that she already knew who he was and hope for him to slip up. He seemed like he almost wanted to confess something to her.

“You have a good eye for detail.” He said.

“How do you think I got as far as I did and survive to tell the tale?”

“But you aren’t here for any specific reason other than coincidence?” He reiterated.

“Not one that I can think of. Is there one you want to tell me?” She asked.

“No.” He said.

“Well, John Granger...I suppose it’s been fun and thanks for the coffee but I should probably get going. Unless there’s something else to this?” She stood up and set her mug down only having taken a few sips. As enticing as the idea was to figure out his true identity she was getting the feeling that if she poked too much longer she’d be in trouble. She knew what he looked like and she knew his alias which really only meant that she now needed to go do research until she could pin it down.

“You said if you had the Chesapeake Ripper here, you wouldn’t be interested in turning him in. That was unless you felt your life was in danger?” He asked. She looked at him. That was certainly an interesting thing to say.

“Right.” She replied, “I wouldn’t knowingly throw my biggest meal ticket in jail. What do you think gets subscribers to my website and keeps them there? I’m not an idiot.”

“Huh.” He said, “Well, I know who the ripper is.”

“Really?” She asked, not sure why she was deciding to humor this guy.

“Yes. Really.” He smiled then took another sip of his coffee sitting back and offering no more information to her. He was trying to keep her there for some reason, and she didn’t believe he was the ripper. Possibly she could believe he knew who it was, only slightly possibly though. This guy was obviously shady which meant shady connection. Mafia or drug money paid for this place. Some type of criminal activity. He didn’t talk or act like he came from money or had a trust fund and being some kind of stock or day trader was a very easy way to explain money that couldn’t also easily be verified.

“Might want to talk to police then.” She said, “I think they have a tip line and a reward.”

“Maybe I’m not in the business of getting him caught either.” He said.

“What business is it you are in then? Thought you were retried.”

“My business is revenge.” He said.

* * *

Someone had been following him, someone he couldn’t quite ever get a good grasp on. The man knew his stuff. Stayed in the shadows and just far enough behind that it was impossible to see him or even really nail him on the fact that he was stalking too close behind. Hannibal wasn’t a stupid man, though. He’d been followed by enough people, law enforcement and random revenge seekers to be very aware of when it was being done. He never clearly saw this man’s face. He was large, they were about equally matched in a physical capacity, and perhaps maybe even intelligence when it came to how smart this guy was about not getting caught.

He had seen the figure on at least three different occasions but theorized that he’d been around far longer. Hannibal never got a scent either. Just small glimpses out of the corner of his eye. At that point he was almost positive that this guy had come out of the shadows on purpose. Had wanted it to be known that he wasn’t alone any more and someone knew who he was and what he was doing. Considering whoever this was had failed to turn him in or do something himself, he didn’t believe that the man was actual law enforcement which meant that there was a different motive for why he was being trailed. Probably a far more sinister one than taking reward money from the government and being thrown in jail for all eternity.

Hannibal wasn’t sure how much the stalker knew or had seen but it was a decent amount. The man showed up at some of the places where he had intended to place bodies. Had seen him arrange at least one before just leaving. No trace. He wasn’t even leaving tracks except for maybe a few boot prints here and there. Making sure that he would cause a He’d have to be a bit more careful. Take a few weeks off or throw in a bit of misdirection. It was no longer about fear of being caught, it was fear for his own life. Whatever his stalker wanted it was justice and not at the hands of the law.

* * *

“Alright say I believe you.” Freddie said, slowly taking her seat back at the table and moving to grab her coffee again. “I guess the first question would be is what evidence do you think you have that you know who the ripper is?”

“I’ve seen him.” John told her.

“Seen him? Well, no offense, John, but all of us have potentially seen him. He only kills in this area he’s someone walking around right now.” Freddie said then added a small chuckle behind it.

“I’ve seen where he puts his bodies. What he does with his victims. How he arranges them. I know where his next one is. It hasn’t been discovered yet. It will be soon. I think the observatory is usually closed on the weekends.” He said. Freddie looked him over in a bit of shock. Was he telling her where to go? That there was going to be a body at the observatory? She got up without another word and headed back to the bedroom to grab her clothing. This could all be a lie, and she was well aware of that, but if it wasn’t one then she wanted to be the first on the scene to collect pictures. Police were not too keen on releasing the best and most gory.

“Hey!” He was right on her tail following after her. “So you do believe me.”

“I guess I might believe you after I take a trip to the observatory to see if what you are saying is true or not.”

“It is true.” He insisted. “You may want to be careful.”

“And why is that? Is he there waiting for me? Is this some grand plan between you and him to get rid of a pesky little journalist?”

“As much as I hate to admit it you do more of a service than most people would like to admit. You tell the truth and as much as that’s not prized in society today, especially when it’s uncomfortable, you certainly aren’t behaving unfairly.” He said. She spared him a sideways glance before going to get dressed, mulling over his words in her head. It seemed as if he had some sort of moral rule book to judge people on if they were worthy of being spared their life or not. That wasn’t a compliment for the sake of compliments, it was almost an insult. However, the way he spoke it made it seem like it was his justification for telling her this information and maybe even allowing her to live.

“If I may ask, what sort of, revenge would you want to get on the Ripper. And why?” She asked.

“He’s not a man who completely cherishes the life he’s been given and maybe he needs to be taught a lesson.” He said. Alright that was definitely an indicator of who he was and yet it still wasn’t registering. Was it possible that he’d been in the spotlight at some point, a point far before she was ever a journalist. Maybe when she was a young adult? Someone big enough to make headlines but someone who had also vanished without a trace? Her interest in crimes hadn’t just randomly started when she entered college and even if it had she would have definitely remembered some sort of prolific serial killer if he’d been around. This man wasn’t too much older than her. Maybe in his early forties. Alright, to be fair, that would make him a lot older than her, but not in a gross kind of grandfather way. Or a many she couldn’t be sleeping with and it would seem utterly bizarre.

“Cherish his life.” She muttered.

“What was that?” He asked.

“Nothing.” She said, “I’m going to the observatory and I will be contacting you based on what I find. You are aware of that, correct?”

“I’m very aware of that.” He said.

“If you know what he’s doing, where he kills, and where he puts the bodies, why involve me at all if you want revenge? Why not just kill him?” She asked.

“Good point.” He said, “Take your trip to the observatory and come back, maybe I’ll explain it to you then.” He spoke as if he was so sure of himself that she had no reason to doubt he was telling the truth.

“Okay but if someone is there waiting to kill me I will shoot them.” She told him.

“There’s no one there, or at least no one I sent there.” He reassured her. Either he was a very good liar or she actually believed that he didn’t intend her any sort of harm at his hand. With a quick nod she grabbed her bag and headed out of there. The observatory would open soon and she needed to make sure she was one of the first to get in there. All of this would be pointless if she didn’t.

“If I find the body first I will have to call the police because my forensic evidence will be all over the place and...”

“I understand that.” He said he was still following her. “See you later then? Maybe for lunch?”

“Depends how long the FBI takes with me.” She said, “But you will definitely see me later. For the record I didn’t sleep with you because I thought you had information on anything. I just thought you were attractive and drunk.”

“So you took advantage of me?”

“Maybe, but you clearly had ulterior motives of your own so who’s the real asshole here?” She asked. With a smirk she left the apartment and headed quickly for her car. It was time to get herself a headline and rake in the subscriptions.

* * *

As she drove to the observatory she considered all that he had said. Pondering why it was familiar and the sound of his name. Something about cherishing life. Where had she heard that before and why had she made a point to remember it? It was good advice for anyone, really. Not to take life for granted and blah blah blah, whatever. Yet it seemed more important than just saying that. He also seemed to use that moral code to justify what she did, even if the rest of the world would call it sleazy. She was a bottom feeder to most. Even to her readers she wasn’t the epitome of journalism they just liked to read the latest gossip and look at gore pictures when they had a chance.

“John...Granger.” She repeated outloud. It seemed that it was a clue in of itself. That something was going on there. As if he was teasing her by using that alias because it was close to a name she might know but not close enough that it would be a dead giveaway. She searched her mind for other names of killers that she could remember. Over and over and over. Serial killers, the most famous to even the obscure. “John Granger...John...Granger. Granger....Kramer...John Kramer? Is that what he was getting at?”

She slammed on the breaks nearly causing a massive pile up behind her. The honking of the cars urged her to drive on instead of continuing to think about this or stop and even look it up on her phone. What did she remember, without any research, about John Kramer? He was a man, had been dying of some kind of cancer. Maybe a brain tumor. He’d collected victims based on who was taking life for granted or had even escaped jail time. Some had never even been caught. John Kramer had been a vigilante who believed himself to be rehabilitating people who were criminals. The ones who had died were written off as just not wanting to make a big enough sacrifice to continue to live. That man in that apartment was not John Kramer, though. That man was far too young, at least from what she remembered, and he very obviously did not have a brain tumor. Those murders had taken place over a decade prior. When she was younger and still in high school. John Krahmer, would be dead even if someone hadn’t killed him during one of his little massacres. Then who was this man? Why would he use such a name and that specific set of morals. Hadn’t there been an accomplice at some point? But he had been written off as dead too. That didn’t always mean dead, though. It was currently the status Abigail Hobbs held and she didn’t believe that girl to be dead either. What was going on here?

She parked her car at the observatory and got out. No matter how long this took and what she found, she was going to be doing research before going back to see that John Granger man. It was better to have a leg up in this situation than to have nothing at all. He hadn’t made it too difficult, and he probably hadn’t wanted to make it so. He wanted her to figure it out but she didn’t know to what end. That really wasn’t the point. He had her now, and she wasn’t going to go anywhere, even if it was seemingly a horribly idea to continue to try to pursue this to the level she wanted to.


	2. Inner circle

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Freddie figures out who John Granger really is and just in time for a visit. The visit entails how she will play a part in the resurrection of the Jigsaw Killer.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Obviously this is the beginning of the alternate timeline as Hoffman and Freddie begin to work together to take out people who are close to Hannibal.

That body had been, interesting. Vivisected and displayed in glass. Whoever had done this had taken their time. Also, had a lot of time. Would have known he’d be alone. If John (and she was sure that wasn’t his real name by that point) had been following the Ripper as he claimed then this would have given him the perfect spot to spy. The building was large and from what she had seen while in there, he’d have a ton of places to hide. Especially if he were quiet about it. She didn’t suppose the Ripper of all people would allow someone to spy and live to tell about it. That was, if the person was able to be caught.

After dealing with Jack and his little minions, she headed back out to the hotel room that she was currently calling home. There was some research that she was going to need to do before returning back to John. By that point it was close to noon and he had said something about meeting her by lunch. Maybe a late lunch is what she could do. Considering how famous (or infamous) John Kramer was, she didn’t think that it was going to take much time to figure out who this new man was. At least, if he were connected to the original Jigsaw killer. Maybe he was just a little fanboy. That had been known to happen. There were groupies and fans for all sorts of killers out there. Even some on message boards already for the Ripper. Nothing surprised her now.

After a quick search for John Kramer’s name she was reminded of the name she needed to be looking for. Mark Hoffman. When she looked up that she was met with a picture of him receiving a plaque and metal, or something, for a promotion to lieutenant forensic detective of his department. Then she was met with his ‘most wanted’ shot. This only confused her seeing as how it wasn’t very long after that, they decided that he was dead and announced to the public that everything was okay. At the time she thought nothing of it but now...it seemed odd. Just literal weeks after the killings stopped. They didn’t seem to have much evidence either. Had it been an inside job? A government agent? She didn’t put it past anyone. Not with how she knew the FBI operated. Yet, John Granger was Mark Hoffman, so whoever had declared him dead had not done a very good job of it.

“Found what you were looking for?” It was Mark’s deep voice behind her. Not directly but at least at the door. Even though her body tense a bit at the sudden noise, and the idea that he had some how gotten into her hotel room that silently of all places, she didn’t react otherwise. It shouldn’t have been that much of a surprise, not that she had thought about it. If he could trail the Ripper and not get caught he would be doing a much better job trailing her. Even as careful as she was to avoid being followed. Her chair swiveled round to look at him.

“Yes.” She said, “Mark Hoffman. You’re supposed to be dead.”

“And I think most of the world is surprised that you aren’t.” He chuckled, shutting the door behind him and walking over to her bed to sit down.

“Touche.” She said. It would be pointless to ask him how he got in. There were a number of ways, she was sure, and it didn’t really matter. He was the apprentice to the Jigsaw killer. He could probably break into Fort Knox if he wanted to. “Afraid you were going to miss me for our lunch date?”

“Possibly.” He said, “I guess I was more curious as to how you’d react when you figured it out.”

“You didn’t exactly hide it too well.” She said, “Unless that alias you gave me was meant to lead me to these articles.”

“Most people aren’t nearly as smart as you. Or they assume my resemblance to Mark is just that, a resemblance. An unfortunate one but the FBI and rest of the government has me listed as dead. It’s easier to get around in public than you might think. Even if people do think I’m really him, how many of those people do you think are likely to try to confront me on it?”

“Yes, I do agree the general public is rather stupid.” She said, “I just don’t see how I come into all of this. You know who he is, where he is, why not just kill him? Or...well...whatever your revenge is?”

“It’s not that easy.” Mark told her. “I need to get him into a trap like situation.”

“Like the whole Jigasw thing?” She asked, “No offense but according to these articles you don’t seem to be very shy with going all stab happy on people, like you did in that police station ten years ago.”

“I did that because I had to. This is different.” He said flippantly, “I want to do this the right way. Continue John’s legacy.”

“Thought that was over.”

“It was, past tense, now the games are just beginning again.”

“Okay, so...once again I’m going to have to ask how I figure into all of this.” She said. Her eyes stayed on him as she got up to move to the mini-fridge so she could get herself a drink. She grabbed a coke from the top shelf and held it up to offer it to him but he shook his head. She shrugged and opened it, then went back to sitting at her desk, taking a long drink from it.

“Maybe I see potential in you.”

“Potential for what?” She chuckled, “If you think I’m going to be an apprentice to a serial killer...”

“Why not?”

“Well...” She didn’t exactly have an answer for that. It actually would be kind of interesting and she’d be far down on the list of suspects. Especially now and in this area. If he did the majority of the work, built the traps, and helped her out. How would anyone possibly suspect her? That’s what she had always wanted anyway. To be at the front seat of murders. The first line of reporting. Breaking the headlines and having only the best pictures for her website. This would enable her to do just that, in certain ways. Obviously she couldn’t get too close or too comfortable with it or else she was going to end up implicating herself in the crimes. No one was pointing a finger at her in the Ripper case, mostly because it was obvious she hadn’t done it. How long could she be a Jigsaw apprentice and not get caught? That would be the question. “I guess I never thought of it. Could be interesting. I’m just not a killer.”

“Neither am I.”

“Kind of beg to differ. Seth Baxter, Jill Tuck...?”

“They had it coming.” He hissed angrily. Maybe he had a bit of a point. From what she was beginning to recall, he hadn’t always followed the rules anyway. Even when he was with John. It was probably what brought him out on top and kept him alive. It wasn’t exactly like she was a rule follower even if she was also a truth teller. Most of her life was spent on finding rules and exploiting them to get her way.

“Can’t argue with that.” She said and took another sip of her drink. “I am thinking that my website is some how going to come into play here.”

“It most definitely is.” Mark said, “Because it’s going to lead to a grand finale of taking down the Chesapeake Ripper.”

“How much of this is about revenge and how much of this is actually about gaining back notoriety for your crimes?” She asked.

“You are smarter than I thought you were.”

“Thanks, I think.” She muttered. “Look I don’t care if you want to be top dog, I already told you, I’m just interested in a good story. If you want to kill a bunch of people and do it in over the top ways to best the Ripper, I’m all for it. As long as I can keep my website updated. That’s why you need me isn’t it? The sensationalism? To drum up some kind of killer versus killer showdown? Get the whole world watching.”

“It would greatly benefit you.”

“There are many other, much bigger people, you could probably go to on this one.” She said.

“Yes but not many that are as unbiased as you that I also think would be more interested in the story than turning me or the Ripper in.” He said. She nodded. He had a point there. Bigger news outlets would possibly be interested in his story but they wouldn’t be interested in keeping him from law enforcement. As an independent and freelance writer for the most part, she only had to see her own interests through.

“Okay then I guess you have yourself a deal. However, you can’t just go after Hannibal first. You have to either match his body count or start taking out some prominent people with one of your...traps. Or a few. Something that will grab attention before writing the big finale.” She said. “Besides, the closer to the Ripper you get, the more riled you’ll get him, the easier he’ll be able to trap.”

“I’ve watched him for a while, he doesn’t seem like the most easily riled man.” He said.

“You know, telling me who he is may benefit you because if I do happen to know him then I can tell you who to go after.” She said. “I do have my theories, you know. Mostly hinged on the rantings of a man I would consider half insane who’s still in jail.”

“Will Graham?”

“That’s the one.” She said and set her can of coke on the desk. From the drawer she got out a pack of cigarettes and lit one.

“And what is it he was saying again?”

“Cut the bullshit, everyone in the general area knows he’s trying to pin it on Hannibal Lecter and to be honest, I don’t think he’s wrong.” She said. “Fits the profile stunningly, I don’t even know how the FBI is ignoring it at this point.” Mark nodded and sat back more on the bed.

“He’s not wrong.” He said after a moment.

“Knew it.” Freddie said, “Not that I’ve really implicated him as my choice on Tattlecrime just yet. I’ve insinuated that he seems like the likely option but haven’t given my official stance on it. Most of what I’ve been working on is covering the actual trial, until today that is, when you gave me a fresh body to showcase. That was the Ripper then, not some sort of Will Graham copycat?”

“The copycat is kind of a moron.” Mark said, “I know who he is too. A man named Matthew Brown. Works at the hospital where Will Graham is currently being held.”

“Interesting. Will has a fan in in his own little jail house. A fan other than Hannibal that is.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“I think it’s pretty obvious from the way I’ve seen them interact that Hannibal has quite an attraction to the man.” Freddie said, “By attraction I mean infatuation. Spends most of his time visiting Will and trying to get him out of prison.”

“You believe Will Graham to be a murderer?”

“I believe him to be capable of murder. I believe that possibly he has murdered more than in self defense. I don’t know if I believe he murdered Abigail Hobbs. That part of it doesn’t seem likely. If anyone would have killed her I think it would have been Hannibal. Some plot to manipulate or hurt Will. They were close as well.” Freddie explained and took a long drag from her cigarette.

“How well do you know these people?”

“I’ve interacted with Hannibal more than I have Will. Before Abigail’s disappearance or...death, whatever you want to believe, I was writing a book with her. This left me to interact with Hannibal more than I would have liked because quite often the meetings were in his own home where he could monitor Abigail. That’s when I knew something was off. It was almost as if he didn’t want her telling the truth about, well something. Not really her part as the Shrike’s daughter but something else that had happened. I think it involves the death of Nick Boyle, which the FBI really hasn’t had a stance on either way yet and I don’t think they intend to. Why muddy a dead girl’s name with a definitive murder charge if she’s not around to stand trial?”

“You know a lot for someone who is also known for running a tabloid.”

“People may call it a tabloid but I do my best to keep most facts straight. It gets blown out of proportion as sensationalism but I haven’t been wrong yet. Will Graham has gone on to murder and become increasingly dangerous since I started to report on him. I just put my theories where people can see them instead of keeping them to myself.”

Mark chuckled a bit. It seemed as if he wanted to say something about this but was holding back. She wondered what it could be but didn’t want to pry too much. It was fairly clear that he was a man that was going to give out information when he chose to give it out and it most definitely wouldn’t come from her prying or manipulation attempts. It was similar to Hannibal in a way, as she hadn’t been able to fully manipulate him either. Nor had he been able to manipulate her which she came to believe frustrated him and more or less was about to put her on the dinner menu.

“If you were to give advice, as someone to take out first, to get under Hannibal’s skin. Who would that person be?” Mark asked. Freddie took another drag from her cigarette and thought about it. Going for the jugular straight forward wouldn’t be the best way. They would have to go through the back door. Give Hannibal some sort of sinking suspicion that something was wrong. That forces were starting to turn against him. Forces that were not connected to the FBI or other law enforcement. He most likely already had that sense but not it was time to take the next step. She turned to the cork board that she had information pinned to right in front of her and glanced over it.

“Bedelia Du Maurier.” She said taking down the picture of the blond woman. “Hannibal has some sort of odd relationship with her. Very close. She was his psychiatrist but stopped practicing after a patient attack which he seemed directly involved with. They still see each other. She’s been the FBI’s...somewhat...well informant or something. I don’t know I just know they made mention of her not too long ago. Kind of. I had to track her down and figure out who she was.” She held the picture out to Mark and he took it to look it over.

“There would have to be a reason to put her in a trap, if we are going by the same rules as John Kramer.”

“As I said, there was an incident. I haven’t been able to dig up much on that except for there was foul play and she most likely murdered a man. One of her patients but covered it up with the help of Lecter and some phony self defense plea. He was larger than her, tried to attack, she did what she had to do blah blah blah. Except that wouldn’t explain how her arm got completely down her throat. Unless she’s some kind of ninja, she would have had to have done it when he was somewhat incapacitated and still alive.” Mark finally looked up from the picture and directly at her.

“She’s a murderer then? Do you believe it’s possible she knows what Hannibal’s doing and isn’t trying to stop him?”

“Very possible. She didn’t like at all when I approached with questions about him. She hides behind the guise of patient and doctor confidentiality which really doesn’t apply any more since she’s officially retired.” Freddie said, “Which means there is nothing really protecting him other than her misguided morals and ethics.”

Mark stood up, he set the picture down on the edge of the bed, tugged on his jacket and headed for the door to her room. She watched him and took one last drag from her cigarette, snuffing it even though it was only half way spent. She wasn’t much of a smoker but on occasion it helped to calm her nerves, which was what she had needed right then. Other times it was while she drank or was working on a particularly exciting article. Mark was leaving, or so it seemed, so she wasn’t all that interested in finishing in the moment.

“We’ll be in touch. I need to see what I can find on this woman before I proceed with anything.” He said, putting his hand on the door knob.

“But you will let me know before you do something, right?”

“Maybe. Maybe it’ll be right after, before the police can figure it out. Either way, you’ll be the first to break the story that the Jigsaw killer has been resurrected.” With that he slipped out of the door and was gone. All she could do now was wait and hope to hear word from him in a day or two, or a week. She honestly didn’t know how long it took him to throw any of this together. All she really hoped for now was that he wasn’t lying and she’d have her story. She could really care less about that ice queen.


End file.
